


Showtime!  Under the Stars!

by APgeeksout



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, trying to make a little nostalgic fun for his guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showtime!  Under the Stars!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenityabrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityabrin/gifts).



> Set at some nebulous point post-CA:TWS.

"Be serious, Wilson. Where are you taking us?"

"I am serious." Sam chanced taking his eyes off the straight, narrow ribbon of rural highway that stretched out in front of them, and caught Barnes scanning the darkening horizon warily, alert to whatever threats might come at them out of the corn and soy beans laid out on either side of the road. Steve, sitting in the middle of the old pickup's bench seat, stretched his arm out along the seatback and loosely around Bucky's shoulder, in what Sam was pretty sure Steve thought was a subtle move. "Serious about it being a surprise."

"Surprises ain't all they're cracked up to be."

"I don't know, Buck. People have been surprising me since I came out of the ice." Steve stretched again - all smooth moves, that Captain America - and Sam felt Steve's fingers graze the side of his neck, just above the collar of his t-shirt. "Sometimes they're pretty okay."

"This one hasn't gone quite like I planned, but I think it's gonna work out pretty okay, too," Sam said. "Trust me?"

"Far as I can," Barnes offered, barely loud enough to be heard over the tires on the tarred road.

Still, Sam knew it was true. It had been slow going, of course - it was hard enough, readjusting after a tour measured in months, and Barnes had been on the front lines for the better part of six decades - but Sam had the quiet satisfaction of being one of the few living people who'd been found worthy of his trust. It was a pretty exclusive club, one whose members Sam suspected could all fit in the cab of this borrowed truck, or in Sam's shower or Steve's bed.

That might be something to worry about, eventually, but for now, Sam had decided to just let himself feel blessed to be allowed to put his hands to use working the knots out of his back and to occasionally share in his wordless conversations with Steve and to drag them both with him to his great-aunt's little house in Ohio farm country for goofy little surprises.

He took his foot off the gas and kept his eyes peeled for the rooster-shaped mailbox that would mark the driveway he was after. The sun was just beginning to set in earnest, flushing the sky in bright oranges and pinks through the window over Barnes's shoulder. Perfect timing, he thought to himself as he turned into the graveled drive, past the mail rooster, and the grey farmhouse, beyond a fenced enclosure where two speckled horses stretched to nibble at the grass on the other side, and around to the back of the broad white barn.

"You bring us to a petting zoo?" Barnes asked suspiciously. Steve didn't say anything, though he was looking at him pretty curiously, too.

He smiled, and backed the truck into the grass beside the car already parked there, its hood laden with clunky electronics. "First, don't act like you're too cool for baby goats," he said. "Second, you'll find out what I'm up to that much quicker if you get out and help me set up."

As they piled out of the truck into the soft night air, he heard Steve say, "He's right about the goats. Wonder if there really are some here," and he and Barnes snickered at the same time.

He directed them to spread out the worn-out sleeping bags and old, soft blankets in the bed of Aunt Grace's old Ford, while he went to the empty car and fiddled experimentally with the projector and accessories strewn across its hood. He heard the cooler, heavy with ice and beer and soda, scuff across the bed of the truck, and knew that they must also have found the insulated bag of snacks: popcorn and hot dogs, wrapped in foil still hot from the grill, licorice and Zagnut bars, Bit-o-Honey and Raisinets and skinny packs of clove-flavored chewing gum.

The grass rustled beneath Steve's sure, steady feet as he crossed the space between the vehicles to Sam's side. "Is this..." he started, standing just close enough for Sam to feel his warmth. "Did you make us a drive-in?"

He flipped one last switch, and the projector hummed to life, throwing a soft, flickering glow - and his and Steve's shadows - onto the face of the barn.

"Hey, down in front!" Barnes hollered, mirth creeping in around the edges of his tone.

Sam laughed and took Steve's hand, covering the distance back to Barnes with him side by side.

"It was mostly my cousin Lee," he said. "This is his barn, and he scared up the projector for me." He hoisted himself into the bed of the truck, and took the opened beer Barnes held out to him. He claimed the space in the middle of the makeshift pallet. It was warm enough now, but he wanted to be able to pull both of them around him if it turned off chilly later - maybe even if it didn't. "I wanted to take you to the one we used to go to, in the next town over, when I spent summers here as a kid, but I guess they tore down the screen last year. It's a Starbucks and a GreatClips and a payday loan joint now."

"World changes on you when you're wrapped up with other things," Steve said sympathetically, stretching out at his side with a bag of popcorn.

"Welcome to the future, old man," Barnes said, the silver light of the projector catching his smirk. "What's on tap?" he asked, tipping his chin toward the makeshift screen.

"Double Feature, if we want it: _Son of Frankenstein_ and _The Wolf Man_."

They settled in for a while, quiet except for the rustling of wrappers and the rattle of an empty beer bottle rolling from their feet down to the edge of the tailgate, full dark taking over as the black and white creature-feature played itself out in front of them. Sam winced when he realized that out of all the old monster movies in the world, he'd managed to snag the one with a whole sub-plot about the local constable having lost an arm to Frankenstein's monster, but Barnes only huffed out a soft laugh and tapped a metallic finger against the neck of his beer when the Inspector intoned: _"One doesn't easily forget, Herr Baron, an arm torn out by the roots."_

In the calm before the villagers started gathering up their torches and pitchforks, Steve leaned over into his space. "This is perfect," he said softly. "Thank you."

Sam didn't say anything, but leaned in to collect a kiss that tasted like butter and salt and carmel Sugar Babies.

"Hey, Wilson," Barnes said, trailing light fingers - the flesh and bone ones, Sam was pretty sure - down his back. "This might not be the way you pictured it, but this set-up scores over all the real drive-ins I was ever at."

"How's that?" he asked, knowing from the smile that took shape on Steve's face that they were both hearing the same note of welcome mischief in Barnes's voice.

He leaned in, breath tickling against Sam's neck, fingertips edging toward the hem of his shirt, and continued, "Nobody here to raise a stink if a fella goes and gets a little fresh with his dates."

"Nobody here minds that a bit," Steve agreed, settling one warm hand on Sam's thigh.

In the end, the projector played a blank screen for a good long while before he could pull himself away long enough to start the second screening.


End file.
